When Winter Ends
by Sweet Succor
Summary: They have been through hell and back together. When their haven is overturned, will they still be able to rely on each other? Post-Parish, with many flashbacks into their past together. Nick/OC, and naturally other OCs to help tell their continuing story.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: As with everyone else on this site, I do not own L4D2. However, Angel is my own original character.

Author's Note: This story is a romance between Nick and my OC, but is also a story just as much about the friendship that binds the group. That being said, they start off rescued, and the story will continue to develop from there. The first few chapters will probably be very fluffy, then I hope that the story will take a much darker turn. Much of the story will be told through flashbacks. That might change as the story progresses, I'm not sure about that one yet. I hope you enjoy. R&R. Criticism appreciated, praise loved.

Pain is my close lover. She has left marks upon my neck, blood on my wrists, strain on my muscles, and has disquieted my mind. She has filled my lungs with burning passion and fury. I have experienced every part of her, but until this moment I have never experienced her true fury.

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October 30, 2009

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A young woman lay on the floor, clutching her chest. Dirt and grime mangled what might have been homely beauty in another lifetime. She closed her eyes, tears cutting through the muck canvas on her face. A small grunt, perhaps a sarcastic, knowing laugh, escaped her lips. "What a way to go, right, Nicky?" She croaked, eyes blinking and staring warily at the ceiling. Her hand found a small, golden locket that was laced around her neck. She cracked it open with shaky, unsure hands. Two unknown eyes and a strangers' smile found her eyes. The girl in the locket was so pretty.  
"Fate has finally caught up with me, I guess."

It felt like her lungs stopped working as she hacked and spit into the concrete. "Make it out safe. Please. I'm alive with you." She curled into a ball as her ear touched cold, unforgiving concrete.

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October 6, 2009

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She could hear voices. Maybe it was insanity. Gunshots. Was it the military? Maybe. Maybe they came to finish it. The body near her shuttered with breath. "Do you hear it?" Her eyes caught the voice. Her hand found her dying companion's.

"Yes." She whispered.

"Go find them." He commanded.

"What if it's those thugs again? They will kill us. We cannot run this time." She worried.

"Then it's either them or that blasted smoke, darlin'."

"I'm not letting you die alone."

"They might have something to take the edge," His breath caught, hitched, and he spat up crimson blood, "-the edge off the pain." Her eyes found his determined ones. "Go." She opened up the hotel room door, and quickly stepped out. The bullets sounded like they were coming from the floor above. She checked her surroundings, a few straggling infected were wandering aimlessly, hopelessly down the hall. She kept her hand steady as she took aim at their heads.

One. Dead.  
Two. Dead.  
Shit. Third one got hit in the shoulder. Her hand shook as he approached violently, seeking revenge. She took a breath and held it, aiming at his nose. Splatter. Warm blood. What could most likely be decaying brains. Dead.

Her attention turned to the loud footsteps on the metal staircase.

"Look! Another survivor!" A female voice pierced the air.

"Hey, kid. Chopper left. You want to survive, get out of this place before it burns to the ground." A masculine voice told her.

The voices seemed to swim in her head with no meaning. She checked their attire, looking for any signs of medical supplies. Her eyes held onto a bottle on a pair of overalls.

"I need those pills." She said without thinking. The man looked down at his pants.

"Oh sure, miss. Ya can have them if yew're hurt." The yellow shirted man handed her the pills.

"We need to get moving. Let's go." The one in the white suit spoke wise words, but went ignored.

The girl reopened the door to the room and saw her companion lying on the ground. She brushed the hair out of his face as he took a shuddering breath. She could hear the others in the background shouting. Something about waiting up, and an injured man. "Pain pills. Maybe it can help you pass easier." She told him.

"Thanks doll, but I think this is the end." She heard footsteps approaching slowly and tenderly behind her, casting a quick, predatory glance, she noticed it was only the four that had gave her the pills. "Maybe fate has just brought you to be with these guys."

"We've got to go. The goddamn building's on fucking fire." A demanding voice was ignored.

"I'mma miss you, angel." The man spoke. His hand pressed something into her hands. A locket. That action was with his final breath.

The girl stood up and paused for a second. A large hand found her shoulder. "I'm sorry. But we have to go." The deep, velvety voice said. Her eyes found their owner. A large black man smiled at her.  
She nodded.

"Finally." The suited man exclaimed, and lead the way down the hall.

The survivors continued moving together, a deathly dance in which they embraced partners whom didn't even know each others names. They were more likely to find a familiar face amongst the walking dead. An explosion in the hallway sent rabble flying their way. She shielded her eyes to protect them from the burn. In the next second they opened the only door that wasn't behind them or consumed in fire.

"A dead end." The black female of the original four spoke.

"No." Said suit, as he crashed his crowbar into a near window, shattering the glass. "We can climb on these ledges. They're large enough."

"I don't know son." The larger man spoke.

"It's either that or an inferno." Their newest member spoke, her gut wrenching at the height.

"Then les' go!" Yellow shirt said with far more gusto, he stepped onto the ledge first. Suit followed him, shaking his head at something. The black woman followed, anxiety apparent in her brown eyes.

"Go ahead miss." The large man spoke. "I'll take up rear." She nodded, seeing no reason why she would disagree. As she walked out onto the ledge, her eyes firmly held onto the pink shirt a few paces in front of her Yellow shirt had already made it, whooping at the level ground under his feet. "Dun' worry guys! It ain't that bad!" He shouted from a few rooms down. Was that supposed to reaffirm her footing?

Pink shirt disappeared into the room, a suited arm helping her over a body. She took her last few steps, the same arm leading her into a room. "Thanks." She said quietly.

"No problem, princess." He responded.

The large man barrelled into the room a few seconds later. Taking in their surroundings. The fivesome opened the door, seeing signs of a few stragglers and killing the ones that came near.

Sanctuary came temporarily in the form of elevator.

"Good job out there guys." Suit said.

"What're y'alls' names?" Yellow shirt asked.

"My friends call me Coach." The large man responded.

"My name's Ellis." Ellis said with a friendly smile.

"I'm Rochelle." The woman said, taking in her other companions.

She bit her lip. "Call me... Angel." She said, taking the locket out of her pocket and clasping it around her neck. "That'll do for now." She smiled at her companions.

"Nick." Suit said simply.

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October 23, 2009

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Angel's lips curled into a smile. She held a metal tray and stood in the back of a very long line of people. A line that would probably take a good half-hour, if not more, to get through. However, the line promised a warm meal, so the wait as well worth it.

And there was good company.

She looked at her fellow survivors. Rochelle had one arm in a sling, a bad pull from a smoker had broken the bones in her arm. The military doctors were constantly busy with ...other things, so there was no time for a proper cast. It hardly mattered. At least they were safe. Coach's leg had never bothered him more, now that he actually had time to think about the pain. Ellis had also joined him in a limp. His leg was paining him madly after he dislocated it on the run through the bridge. It's amazing he had even survived. He had to put his weight on one of the other survivors the entire way through.

But they were alive. Pain reminded them of that.

And here was this camp. It used to be an old high school, the bane of every teenager's existence. But now it was full of life. People. They weren't trying to tear them limb from limb. From what they had heard from these people, they had never even encountered the infection. They were all from around the area, and were evacuated into this camp before they saw a single zombie. It was one of the only few areas the military actually had the chance to save. It was in northern Vermont. The chopper ride over here had been long and painful for those who were injured, but they held each other the entire way through.

And they had the closest thing they could possibly have to a cure. It didn't save those who were zombified, but it stopped the virus from spreading to people as long as it was administered. The fivesome would never be able to approach a population who wasn't procured with the medicine without turning them into a zombie, but at the very least they could be around these people. And they were safe.

Together.

Her eyes looked with amusement onto the scene developing between Ellis and Nick. "Listen, Overalls." Nick said annoyed. "I don't give a goddamn about your mom's apple pie! Want to here about my mother's apple pie? She tried to poison my father with arsenic in it. Do you know what arsenic is?" He said snidely.

"Yeah, Nick, I know what arsenic-"

"Good. I hate explaining things to stupidasses like you."

"Nick, yew don't have ta be a jerk just because your ma din' like yewr pa."

"I was kidding, Ellis." Nick said dryly. "And I wanted you to shut up."

Rochelle sighed and rubbed her temples. Coach rolled his eyes. Angel watched the scene fondly. Nick looked up and caught her eyes. Holding his gaze, she could swear she saw his eyes lighten. They had all changed during their time together. Something held them together like glue, and even though there was a time in which they all wanted to rip each others' throats out... they all seemed to shine more when they were around each other.

Inside the mess hall, they all took seats next to each other. The food was nothing but mashed potatoes that probably came from dehydrated packages and pears that probably came from cans. The natives grumbled as they were served. Wonders of "why wait so long for something so little?" left their mouths, but the survivors ate the food greedily. The tasteless potatoes warmed their very souls and the sweet pears made them smile with joy. Tomorrow's food would probably only be tomato soup or canned beans, but it was the promise of food daily that made the survivors overjoyed. They sat in contented silence until another person approached them.

"Hi guys." Blonde hair bounced curtly against small, pale shoulders as the girl approached them.

"Hi Julie!" Ellis said happily with his mouth full. Rochelle and Angel shared a tent with the girl who happened to be sickeningly obsessed with Nick. Or so Angel thought anyway. Angel pulled her lips into a tight line. Everyone at the table was aware of the thick air except maybe Ellis and Julie. Coach cleared his throat.

"Well, that was a mighty fine meal." He said with a gutteral laugh.

"Ugh." Julie responded. "Are you kidding me? We get the worst food here. It's the military for heaven's sake! The government! Why can't they get us better food?" She whined.

Angel swallowed her food before speaking up. "I don't know. Maybe the zombies hijacked the food trucks. They have children to feed too, you know." She responded bitterly and dryly, eliciting a snicker from Nick and Rochelle. Julie had opened her mouth to say something, but Angel had risen before that. "I'm done." She said picking up her tray and depositing it into a bin for it to be washed and reused by the next day. She was about to say a friendly goodbye to her table, but she heard a whisper from Julie. "What the hell crawled up her ass and died?" Angel turned around and nearly jogged out of the mess hall. When out of site she pushed herself against the wall and sighed, looking up into the sky, fingering her locket. The clouds had started to move in, obscuring the sun. The winter weather brisked angrily against her skin.

She wanted to murder that female.

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October 15, 2009

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"Nick!" Angel screamed. "I'm going to fucking murder you!" The rain poured upon them as violently as Angel felt. This was the second goddamn witch Nick had startled on their way back with the gas. The other one didn't do much damage as they were able to board the elevator and waste lead into her as she clawed desperately at the bars. That still didn't make Angel any happier with Nick at this point.

"Well, what do you want me to do, princess?" Nick grunted, almost tripping over something. Angel grabbed his arm to help him steady his way back up. Where were their other companions?

"I want you to stop pissing off the white bitches!" She said, the sarcastic humour hanging over her lips. She cast a glance over at Nick, swearing she could see a bitter smile on his face, a comeback lingering in his throat. "Yes! That includes me!" She yelled at him. "You ass!"

The water was weighing them down, but they sloshed through it as fast as possible. The witch had to be gaining on them. She had to. Angel cursed again. Her lungs were burning. Her stomach was full of acid. It felt like the whole world was leaning on her. She started to reload her SPAS. Just 6 more shells...

She looked behind her, and saw the eerie glow of the witches eyes. Nick huffed and made a mad sprint ahead of her. Angel was done reloading. She turned around and aimed at the witch's body. The buckshot should connect the most with her there. She fired so quickly that between her exhaustion and the recoil of ten shots she almost fell.

But she wasn't the one in danger.

She heard Nick scream in front of her. He had tripped and fallen, and was scrambling in the heavy water to get up. Angel cursed. The witch was about to barrel right past her, and move on to the vulnerable Nick. The infected female had taken many of her shells, she noted. The left half off her dress had ripped off with the force of her buck shot, revealing a disgustingly mutated breast that was slashed open all over from the shotgun.

Angel cursed as she fumbled with reloading her shotgun. She dropped a shell. It didn't matter. She grabbed in her pockets for another one. Hands shaking, she slammed the last shell into the barrel.

The witch was already past her. She was nearing Nick, who had gotten up, but not made much progress. Don't give up, Nick. She thought, as she pushed her last energy into running, closing the distance... making that last shell count. The witch was barely a foot in front of her, barely six inches away from Nick. She raised her shotgun to the witch's head. "Nick! Get down!" She yelled as she pulled the trigger. The witch fell. So did Nick. The improper form of how she held the shotgun had caused it to recoil painfully into her chest, leaving what would have to be a violent bruise later. But Nick got up, tenatively removing his hands from his head, picking up his AK-47 from disgusting water. "Good thing they made these things to last." He said with a smirk. Angel fell to her knees. "Hey, hey, get up, let's go." Nick said, looking around for somewhere safe and hopefully dry. "Come on, come on." He said gently as he grabbed her arm and slung it around his shoulder, leading them to a room.

"Where are the others?" Angel said quietly, leaning happily into Nick. It felt like her heart was on fire. She wasn't sure if that was because of the pain or being so close to this man.

"We can't go looking for them in this condition." Nick said, grunting. He wasn't doing too well either, but wasn't feeling the burn as much as Angel was. "Especially as the storm is kicking up." He said over the howling winds. Angel leaned up against the wall as he opened the door to the locker room. They had been this way before, noticed this room before. Her head was spinning, but if she remembered correctly she thought they had agreed to meet up here if the storm separated them. Maybe. Maybe that was just false hope. All she could feel was the burn in her heart and head. She walked into the room after Nick, and he closed the door behind them. She slumped up against the wall, exhausted. He did the same. The room was dark. She could barely make out his face.

"Good thing there are less zombies in this area since we've already gone through." She said.

"This storm ought as well be a tank though." He murmured, moving his neck back and forth until a telltale crack came. "Much better." He said quietly.

"I'm too tired to hate you for the witch right now." She cleared her throat. "Witches, I mean." The rain and the wind howled against the walls for what must have been a few minutes, until he pushed himself against the wall, rising slowly.

"Let's move these benches in front of the door, just in case." He said. She mumbled an agreement as she rose, and they put their last ounces of strength into the measly barricade. Their job finished, they took a seat against their previous wall. "How long do you think it'll take the storm to clear up?" She asked Nick slowly. The thought of their companions in both of their minds.

"Don't know. Last time it seemed like it took about an hour to pass, and another hour for it to come back." Nick said, probably only giving her a time to calm her nerves. She nodded, shivering. The rain had finally done it's job of soaking her to the core. She swore she could hear Nick shuddering too. She closed the distance between them, leaning against Nick's arm.

He lifted it, putting it around her shoulder. They were cold. The body heat radiating off each other was a welcome change. In another world, this might've been romantic. In this world, it was something shared between friends, survivors. She felt Nick's breath even out. He might've been asleep. Against her better judgment, she started to let her eyelids get heavy. Sleep. sleep would be nice. Especially against the warm frame of Nick. Sleep would be very nice. So she slept. They both slept the best half hour they had ever slept in their entire lives.

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October 23, 2009

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The least the survivors could do for being rescued was to help with the scientists' research by being their little experiments. That's what Angel thought until they actually got inside the medical building, which was set up in an entire hallway of old classrooms. Posters on the wall made it seem like the English wing. The true horror of it all was that they were being treated very kindly.

In fact, the scientists told them while they might begin experiments on them in the months to come, they were going to be minimally asked for at first.

The horror of it all was the fact that they just had to give blood every once in a while to begin with.

Angel was terrified of needles.

No tank, witch, smoker, or hunter could make Angel display a similar look of horror. Ellis had been the first to donate. He walked out of the room and back into the one the other survivors were in with a happy look on his face. Angel began rubbing her fingers together unhappily.

"Who's next?" A soldier called. Coach looked around the room before rising.

"Guess that's me." He said before leaving.

The room stayed silent for a bit until Rochelle's voice pierced the air. "Honey, are you okay?"

Angel's attention snapped up. Hilarious tears filled her eyes as she whimpered. "No."

Nick was looking at her with a smirk. "Afraid of needles, princess?" She nodded her head meakly as Nick snickered.

"Nick, don't be mean. We all have our fears." Rochelle said soothingly, as she rubbed Angel's back.

Ellis nodded jovially. "Yeah man, like you wouldn't believe it, but my friend Dave is actually really scared of fire. So, there was this one time me an'Keith were gunna play a prank on him. Yew know, April fool's day and 'verything. So an'way, Keith said we shoul' like, spray Axe on him or sumthing when he wasn' paying attention then light him on fire. Like, the Axe woul' burn and so woul' his hairs maybe, but nothin' else. So he got a blowtorch-"

By that time, Coach had re-entered the room and the solider was calling for the next person.

"Oh for heaven's sake." Nick said, cutting off Ellis' story. "Listen." He addressed the soldier. "My friend is really afraid of needles, can I go in with her?" He said, looking the soldier square in the eyes.

The soldier stumbled over his words. "Um, s-sure. I don't see why not." He said, opening the door for the both of them.

Angel mumbled a small thanks to everyone in the room as she left, guided by Nick's hand on her upper back. They walked down the hall, then the soldier opened another door for them, explaining the situation to the scientists.

The scientists must've caught sight of the tears in Angel's eyes, for they conceded. Angel sat down wordlessly on the bench they had provided. Tears were flowing greedily from her eyes. The scientists were trying to comfort her with words like "it won't hurt" and "it'll be fast" but they all faded away.

She looked up at Nick, lip quivering, and held out her hand. "You know, I really only came here to escape from Ellis's big mouth." He sighed. "But if it'll get you to shut up too, I'll do it." He said as he grabbed her hand. She squinted her eyes furiously shut, and dug her nails hardly into Nick's hand as she felt the needle entering her other wrist. "Ouch, Jesus. Calm down a little." He complained.

"That's for the time when you started like every goddamn witch in that sugar mill." She said, smile on her lips, tears pouring out of her eyes. "I told you I'd murder you."

She heard an appreciative snort leave Nick's nostrils. "Alright, alright. But Ellis has hand-holding duty next time. Goddamn I'm going to lose more blood from you than the needle itself." She swore she could hear one of the scientists giggle, and it warmed her heart. Julie might end up taking Nick away from her for a night of romance here and there...

But she could never steal their friendship.

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October 17, 2009

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They had brought Virgil the gas he needed. In return, he was taking them down the river, and he had also offered them a large bottle of vodka. Cheap Smirnoff. None of them had ever been happier to see the poison in their life. There was no silverware, and nothing to wash it down with. They all took turns taking swigs from the bottle one after each other. It burned just as much as it always did.

It burned wonderfully.

And considering they hadn't ate well for the past few weeks, the survivors felt the Vodka hit them fast and hard before the bottle was halfway gone.

Ellis was the first to break into the bottle. "Oh man. Me an' Keith used ta toss down this stuff like it was no tomorrow." He put bottle to his lips and took a swig. He pulled the bottle away from his lips quickly and scrunched up his face. "Woo-wee. Did the zombies make this stronger?" He said as he passed the bottle to Rochelle.

"I hope so, sweetie." Rochelle said, perking her eyebrow and all of us, and raising the bottle in a toast before taking her shot. "I have never been a party girl, but today's the day."

Angel tsked. "I have never been a party girl, but I ought as well have been an alcoholic, drinkin' alone the way I did." She said, taking the bottle from Rochelle. "Lemme show you ladies how it's done." She raised the bottle to her lips, and drank at least twice as much as Rochelle and Ellis, shaking her head and feeling a tingle run down her spine as she swallowed the poison.

Nick laughed. "Ah, women." He said, removing the bottle from Angel's grasp. "They always think they can outdrink a man, until they end up in bed with them." Angel and Rochelle rolled their eyes.

"Lotsa experience there, huh Nick?" Rochelle asked him sarcastically.

"And?" He said as he put the bottle to his lips for a swig. Angel watched him mischeviously. As soon as she saw his Adam's Apple bob as a sign he was preoccupied, she reached over and hit the bottle of the bottle up, causing the Smirnoff to spill all over his suit. "Oh come on!" He whined as he wiped the drink from him, the rest of the group giggling.

Coach took the bottle from him, shaking his head appreciatively. He downed his in silence, handing the bottle to Ellis for round 2. Ellis fiddled with the bottle as he cast his eyes down in thought. Angel caught notice of this. "What's wrong, Ellis?" She questioned the boy's unusual silence.

"Man yew guys are like my best friends, an' I dun even know anything bout'chu." Ellis said, his sadness showing through. Angel almost thought the sentiment to be funny. Best friends? But it was true.  
When they fell down, she helped them up even if a tank was behind them. She wasn't sure she'd even do that for her old best friends. They always did the same for her, too.

Angel's eyes lit up. "Tell us about yourself, Ellis." Hearing a slight "oh, no" whisper from Nick next to her, she elbowed him, and smiled at Ellis for him to start.

"Aw me?" Angel nodded, and he found Rochelle and Coach's eyes on him intently. "Well, Keith was always my best friend, yew know? An' Keith had graduated a few years before I did, an' he wanted to open up a shop. Me, well, my ma din't have much money, so I said, what the hell? I'll help him and git some money for it. I guess after I graduated I always stayed there, yew know?" Angel nodded, although she wasn't sure she understood. "But man, oh man did we have the best of times together. Dave ended up joinin' us too and man..." He said after he gulped down a swig and passed the bottle to Rochelle.

Rochelle laughed at the bottle in her hands. "Well, I guess that means if I have the bottle in my hands, I have to say something, huh?" She pursed her lips. "Had a boyfriend at the time, and he didn't want me to come down here, but I was the only one with the balls to try." She said, laughing a bit morbidly. "Everyone else at the station was scared of the Green Flu. Guess I should've been too." She cast her eyes down. "I know it doesn't matter, but I wonder what things would be like if I had stayed." She sighed thoughtfully. "Would we have escaped together?" She took her swig and passed the bottle to Angel.

Angel took at the bottle thoughtfully. "Graduated high school, dropped out of college at nineteen. I was done with my parents' shit. Next seven years I spent just moving from place to place. I guess I was looking for some kind of purpose. I never found it. I came down here with the same idea." She said, then took a pause. "I guess I always just wanted a proper home,  
no matter how silly that sounds. You can't say I really lost anything."

She passed the bottle to Nick, making eye contact as he sighed and took the bottle from her. "I'm not going to join your sapfest."

Angel looked Nick squarely in the eyes. "Oh Jesus, fine." He said, taking his swig prematurely. "I gambled. I moved. I gambled. I moved. Made money by gambling some more. Got married. Got divorced. Gambled and was happy again. The end." He shoved the bottle into Coach's hands.

No one argued with Nick as they turned their attention to Coach. He cleared his throat as his voice boomed through the silent air. "I was married. Had two kids. They were the first ones I saw... turned.  
I just ran. I couldn't do it. Couldn't see them like that. I just had to get out." Everyone turned their attention to the man they saw as their leader. It was strange to see him so weak, so breakable.

Even Nick seemed to be holding his breath.

Ellis clasped his hand on Coach's back in a friendly, warm gesture as he took a large drink of vodka. Coach passed the bottle to Ellis. It was now a thick silence.

"I don' mean ta sound like I'm glad that all this has happened." Ellis shifted uncomfortably, like he was hoping the words would stir from the ground. "But I mean, I am. Yew guys are the best." Nick snorted. "I mean, we have our differences, but there's no one else I'd rather go through this with."

"What about Keith?" Nick asked sarcastically.

But Ellis took it like a real question. "Man, not even Keith could get me through this shit like yew guys."

Later that night, most of the group fell asleep quickly, alcohol coarsing them to a deeper sleep then they had for a long time. The small boat rocked back and forth, a sweet cradle to the children who lay upon it. Angel looked up into the sky, stars clear as they lead them through the night. There wasn't any room for them to sleep anywhere but the deck. She heard a stir from near her, a white-suited figure sat up and walked over to the side of the deck. Angel sat up to watch his figure approach the edge of the boat.

"Can't sleep either, kid?" Nick asked her, his usual edge lacking from his voice. She shook her head, giving him a silent no. He walked over to her, presenting his hand.

Angel looked at his hand, and put her smaller onto it. His hand was warm and large. Her eyes locked onto it. That symbol. She felt so protected, so imbued with strength as he lifted her up from the sitting position.

It took them a minute to drop that touch.

It had to be just friendly. Something just shared between survivors, right?

They walked over to the boat's end together, both feeling the inebriation still. He held her shoulders as she almost tripped, until they could lean against the end.

"At least I can throw up over the edge if I have to." She laughed, earning a smirk from Nick.

They were both dazed with the rocking of the boat and the effects of the alcohol and the loneliness of the world.

That's why he put his arm around her shoulders, right?

Then when he kissed the top of her head...

It was just because they had been protecting each other like family, right?

She wouldn't remember this moment. She quickly started getting sleepy, and he guided her back over to where the other three were sleeping, cuddling into each other to preserve body heat in the coolness of the river. She wouldn't remember the night spent with Nick's arm wrapped around her, her nose pushed up to Coach's arm, that it was Nick who kept her warm, draping his jacket across her shoulders, curving his body into the contour of hers, his chest pressed into her back.

Because he would awaken first out of all his companions, and he'd pull himself hastily from her frame, facing the sun, and remembering how much he enjoyed being close to her.

He'd remember, but he wouldn't say anything about it. He realized she was too inebriated to remember.

And he just did all of that because of the alcohol, right?

Right?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own L4D2 or anything by Valve. I now, however, own my own Bullshifter's shirt and Tow Truck Hat from the Valve store to match my healthkit hoodie. =P

Author's Note: Thank you everyone who story alerted or favourited. You are all very supportive. I don't know if I would've published this as soon without you guys. Thank you Dandicca2011 for your kind words. Good to know people are liking/loving. ^_^ Also readers, would you prefer shorter chapters/quicker updates (chapters more like this length, but I'll get them out sooner than this one) or longer chapters(like the previous)/slower updates? Thanks for the feedback! Also, starting with this chapter we get an inside look into our OC. Backstory for all characters will follow after this chapter as well.

As always, rates are wonderful, reviews are loved, criticism is honored, and praise is adored!

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October 30, 2009

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The world had made her dizzy again. The spinning hadn't stopped, and neither had the yelling. A loud _thwump, thwump, thwump_ spun constantly in the background. She couldn't seem to get a grip on reality. She felt her body lift on top of cold, hard metal. And over all the catacylsm and everything that was falling apart, she heard voices call out to her. Never did they stop. "Shit, we need to get her some first aid." "Oh come on, come on. Wake up, wake up." "Yew gotta be okay. It's gunna be okay." But most importantly, "You're going to be alright, princess. Don't give up on me now."

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October 21, 2009

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Maybe it was the sickening _crack_ of her bones. Maybe it was the way Ellis yelled when he fell down wrong on his leg. All she knew was that there was a rescue ahead of them, and in this shape only three might make it on to the chopper. She whipped around and saw Coach bashing in the face of a Smoker who had hooked Rochelle, then reload his gun before he helped her up. She saw Ellis straining to get up, and ran over to the boy herself, slinging her arm under his shoulder.

"Come on Ellis, we got to keep moving." She said. She wasn't shouldering him to take the edge off the pain, no, she was shouldering him to force him to move faster. This wasn't the time they needed injuries. And Ellis understood. They pushed forward, both covering each others' side with a pistol. Nick, his white suit liked a lighthouse, cleared the path for the four of them with shotgun in hand. Common zombies left behind lurched at them, vying for a taste of either of them. She could smell the tang of Ellis' sweat mixed with the iron of her blood. When did she even start bleeding again? She could hear Ellis panting in pain, but it was the roar that sounded everything out.

That roar in the middle of a too peaceful expanse. The crash of metal hitting metal. The splash of a car landing heavily in water.

Nick yelled "Tank!"

That's when she saw it. Pink, blubbering, angry, vicious, and approaching fast. 100 metres left. Nick whipped his head around, muttered a curse. "I'll lead him astray, get to the chopper!" Bolting over cars, and shooting the Tank in the face. "Hey ass, this way!" He said as he began a mad dash onto the unfinished left side of the highway.

Angel turned around, seeing one of Rochelle's arms lying limply, painfully to her side, but the other one handing a pistol, blasting the heads off of lingering zombies. Coach was going faster than she ever saw the man go. She pushed Ellis off and yelled at Coach. "Get to the chopper. Nick can't kill him alone. We'll meet you there. Convince the pilot to give us two extra minutes." She wasn't sure if her sentence was even coherent, but she dashed after the Tank and Nick before they had a choice to argue.

She sprinted after the two, Nick taking out his pistol to fire at the Tank. He must've been out of ammo in his shotgun. Trying not to slow down, she took a bottle of alcohol she'd been saving as a victory drink off her belt. She ripped the bottom part of her shirt off, exposing dirty, bruised, and almost tainted flesh. She stuffed the clothing piece into the bottle. The Tank dug his mighty paws into the bridge below them, shaking the ground as he pulled a slab of concrete from the ground. Angel stuffed her hands into her pockets, digging for a packet of matches. She struck one against the macabre, midnight line. And so became light.

Before the Tank even had a chance to throw the deathly slab at the retreating white figure, Angel threw the molotov against his feet, allowing a beautiful symphony of shattering glass and roaring flame to engulf him. He pounded against the ground in frustration, becoming a towering inferno. She aimed her SCAR at the back off the skull, firing off to make sure he'd know who his target was.

He turned around, hell's flames in his eyes.

Then she ran.

She might've heard Nick calling her voice, calling her a fool, warning her of some unknown horror, but the Tank's feet were all she could hear. And all she knew was two minutes and he'd be burned to the bone. Just to run for two minutes. To catapult the way they came over the cars. She heard bullets being fired, Tank roaring when some connected his flesh, but he kept his eyes on his main offender. How much longer would it be until he burned to death?

She barreled onto the hood of a car, when the worst thing that could've happened occurred. A common infected grabbed her ankle, pulling her down heavily to his level. She had dropped her SCAR, so she fumbled violently as the thing punched and clawed at her chest and stomach. She grabbed her pistol from her leg holster, and shot the abomination under his chin, piercing the top of his head, gore littering her face and body as the aftermath fell heavily down like red rain.

And the Tank's footsteps were so much closer now. Getting up would be useless. She pushed the cold barrel to her temple. No way was she getting torn apart by a Tank as a death. That seemed way more painful. She closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger. An empty click sounded. Cursing under her breath, she laid her head against the car behind her. Tank it would be.

Until she smelt the smoldering flesh herself, and felt the ground receive one last mighty shake before the shaking stop. Then Nick's voice. He was calling for her. Calling her name.

She moved carefully from her hiding spot. Taking Nick's appearance in. The left side of his suit looked burnt. And his left hand was red and blistered. Part of his wrist and arm probably was too. His face turned angry. "Why the hell would you split us up like that? You could've been killed, you idiot! God, what the fuck were you thinking? Did carrying Ellis make his stupid rub off on you?"

Angel shook her head, went over to him, and collected her fallen SCAR. She looked at him sternly. "Let's get out of here."

They met minimal hordes until they saw the chopper. She could see Coach on the flight deck, waving at them, as if they could find their way to him and his gaudy purple shirt easier than a giant hunk of metal that could fly the skies. They entered the cargo flier, taking in their companions. Ellis looked like he had tears in his eyes, and wasn't doing a good job of hiding it regardless of how he was trying. "Man, oh man, I thought we lost you guys there." He said, embracing Angel tightly. She returned the gesture. They stumbled as the helicopter lifted off.

But Rochelle had murder in her eyes. And it wasn't meant for Angel. She walked up to Nick, and Nick sensing the rage, put his hands up defensively. "Look, I don't know what I did this time-" But was cut off by a heavy slap with Rochelle's good arm.

"I don't care what's going on in that goddamned selfish mind of yours." She said, meeting Nick's angry slanted eyes with her own, "But you don't ever give up on us again."

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June 08, 2009

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Angel was used to being alone. Traveling was her "thing" these days. She liked to sleep in cheap motels and sometimes just her car. Mostly she'd rent out a motel whenever she needed a shower and couldn't find someone to crash with.

Loneliness. That's the real thing she'd been running away from. If she stayed in one place, she would start to realize how little she had in the way of material possessions and friendships and family. So she just continued moving, pacing around, or walking away.

Life presented her many opportunities. She always blamed her selfishness on the reason she ended up messing them up. Two years ago, when she was twenty-three, she lived with a fantastic man who took deep care of her. She had a shitty job as a waitress. But it was something. He was someone. One day, he got angry with her for snapping at him due to her bad mood, and told her to get out and get some air for a few hours.

She never came back. She went ahead and left most of her belongings. Why she never went back? Shame. She was ashamed of her actions. And she never wanted to face them.

That's how she ended up here, at some cheap fast food place at 9 PM. And that's how that boy ended up asking her that question. "What's a girl like you doing in such a lowly place like this?" He said, treating her like royalty.

A mischevious spark lit her eyes, and a laugh chimed in her throat. "I'm just passing through. Just on my way to some other lowly fast food place." She said, smiling at him. He was probably her age. Maybe a year or two younger. "How far til Louisiana?"

He scratched his head. "I dunno. A few hours." He said as he cleaned the table next to her slowly, hoping to prolong the conversation.

"Is there a motel around?" She said, hoping for a bed tonight.

"Not that I know of." He said slowly, carefully.

"Shame."

"But, uhm, you can stay with me if you like." He said shyly. Scratching the back of his head again.

"Sorry. I'm rarely into guys my age." She said matter-of-factly.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that." He said, waving his hands in front of him a bit panicked.

"I don't do casual sex either." She said, still bland.

His face turned scarlet, and looked around nervously, probably hoping his boss wasn't around to hear that. "No, I mean. My roommate and I tend to throw parties a lot, so strangers crash a lot at our place. It's not... uncommon. So if you don't mind the noise..."

She smiled at him an honest smile. "Thanks for the offer sweetheart. Although I love a bed, I love my quiet more, so I'll have to pass." She got up from the table, planning her escape to avoid making this kid feel even more awkward. "Take care of yourself." She said with a wave, and left the restaurant.

Maybe she'd just spend the night driving to Louisiana.

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October 24, 2009

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Angel sat upon a bench in the safe camp, reading one of the books salvaged from the high school library. The wind chipped merrily at her ankles and fingers, as they couldn't provide her with the warmest replacement clothes. Nonetheless, she was happy to have a piece of literature in her hands.

However, she had a visitor this afternoon.

Rochelle sat down next to Angel, and offered a happy hello. Angel returned it, but could see something was on Rochelle's mind. "So... what's up?" Angel asked carefully.

"It's about Nick." Rochelle said.

Angel's heart lurched a little, worried about what could be said. She tried to mask it in indifference. "And?"

"We all know how you feel about him." She said, breathing heavily like it was difficult.

Angel looked at Rochelle, waiting for something more to be said. "So?" When Rochelle still hadn't responded, "Why does it matter?"

"Well, he's nicer to you!" She stammered, like she was unsure why she started the conversation to begin with.

Angel laughed. "And he's nicer to you too. Perhaps we just annoy him less, or he prefers the company of women."

Rochelle sighed. "This seems rather juvenile when I think about it in retrospect."

Angel laughed hardily. "Was I supposed to ask you to play matchmaker?"

Rochelle looked at her, eyes bright. "What would be the harm?"

"That you, myself, and Nick are all aged 25-35 so perhaps this seems a little ridiculous." She said, smirk on her face while eyeing the older woman.

"And the goddamn zombie apocalypse happened. I think we're allowed to channel the teenager inside of us a little." She said, returning Angel's smirk. "And plus, isn't it your birthday tomorrow?"

Angel shook her head bemusedly. "So?"

"Wouldn't a hot, steamy session with the man of your dreams be the best 26th birthday present ever?" Rochelle said, nudging Angel with her elbow.

"Oh please. And how are you going to accomplish this? Telling him to put his dick in a box?" Angel laughed. "I think a good birthday present would be seeing you trying to convince him to do _that_."

Rochelle clutched her side before her laughs subsided, wiping tears from her eyes. "Get that guy drunk enough and I betcha I can!"

Angel giggled and rose from her bench. "Alright. You go ahead and try. But if I see him walking towards me with a gift box at his crotch and alcohol on his breath, the surprise is going to be ruined now." She raised a hand to her forehead and saluted Rochelle as a good-bye. "Talk to you later, you crazy woman."

Rochelle watched Angel disappear into the cold weather. She sighed. "It would be nice to have a little romance in my life again, even if it's someone else." She got up, determined. It would happen, with her influence or not.


End file.
